


In a Real Love

by viajeramyra



Series: The 4x08 Fix-It [3]
Category: La casa de papel | Money Heist (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Post-Canon, Sleepy Cuddles, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-08-31
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:26:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26208664
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/viajeramyra/pseuds/viajeramyra
Summary: Glimpses of happy ever after for Andrés and Martín.—Or the fluffy drabbles following the events of my “The 4x08 Fix-it Series”
Relationships: Berlin | Andrés de Fonollosa/Palermo | Martín Berrote
Series: The 4x08 Fix-It [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1897636
Comments: 7
Kudos: 56





	In a Real Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Cacilie_Blaas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cacilie_Blaas/gifts), [ironccap](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironccap/gifts), [maleclipse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/maleclipse/gifts), [liNipote](https://archiveofourown.org/users/liNipote/gifts), [hanzios](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hanzios/gifts).



> So, I never thought I’d be capable of drabbles, but here we are. A new little writing challenge for me, used as a means to break the writer’s block and anxiety in my head.

If asked, Martín knew he’d draw a blank about the source of his anger. The reason for their argument blurred, lost between exhaustion and the stupidity of it all. Somehow, they’d agreed to their opposite sides of the bed, the neutral line drawn directly down the middle. Or, at least it should have been. While he refused to give into tossing and turning, and therefore had been unable to get comfortable, Andrés had fallen asleep the moment his head hit his plush pillow. Now, the vein in Martín’s head twitched, his own pillow folded around his ears, still facing the window. The brush of coarse hairs against the back of his calf and the warm breath hitting his neck confirmed his suspicions. The terms of sharing their bed were being violated. 

And that wouldn’t do. 

His fingers curled deeper in the pillow, crushing the memory foam against his head. It tried miserably to mold to his ears, to drown out the obnoxious snores from his sleeping lover. Somehow, the noise only seemed to be growing louder. More heat radiated off Andrés’ chest, warming his back and slowly making his shirt stick to his skin. It would be easy to slate himself in the place between his arms and give into the unconscious amends of his sleeping lover. But, when morning broke and the sun peeked through the curtains, he knew it would be a sign of his defeat, his willingness to accept responsibility for their disagreement. The corner of his mouth tugged up into a devious smirk. No, he wouldn’t give Andrés the satisfaction. 

It would be too easy to slam one of the decorative pillows, currently sitting on the wooden floor, against the other man’s head. There was also no guarantee it would actually wake him up. His infuriating pest of a boyfriend was only on high alert during a heist, and the crashing waves singing lullabies outside their window were far removed from any sense of danger. Andrés could sleep through a meteor colliding on their island, he knew. But, there was one trick still rolled in his sleeve, ready and waiting to be used. 

His hand latched around the handle of the wooden bedside table, the other gently guiding it out along the tracks. Without making any unnecessary noise, his hand searched blindly in the dark. The plastic wrapper crinkles when his hand wrapped around it, his twisted smile growing on his face as he took it from the drawer. 

He tore at the jagged ends of the package, ripping down the plastic in a perfect line. Immediately, the first dry crumb landed on his leg, scratching irritably at his skin. Glancing over his shoulder, he paused at the almost angelic view awaiting him. As the night progressed, Andrés had rolled until the dividing line between them failed to exist. His hands were outstretched from his chest, as though searching for him in the dark. His legs inched ever closer to Martín’s, ready to wrap him up and refuse to let go. His heart swelled at the sight, instinct wishing to brush a few stray hairs from his face. The devilish grin on his face melted into something far fonder, perfectly in sync with his arm stretching out as his hand crushed the offensive granola bar. 

It took only seconds for crumbs to sprinkle across Andrés, filling their bed as they rolled over his side. In the dark, he watched as his lover’s eyes snapped open, the low snarl filling their room as he shot upright. “What the fuck are you doing?” 

He puffed up his chest as his shoulders twisted from side to side. His finger floated above the bed as he traced an invisible line down the middle of their mattress. “You violated no man’s land, and there were consequences.” 

“ _Consequences?”_ Andrés growled, hands furiously shoving the irritating crumbs off his clothes and skin. “This is your idea of _consequences?_ ” 

“I knew you’d prefer me hitting you with a pillow, which is exactly why I had to find an alternative.” 

“So your answer is to entice ants into our bed?” 

“Only onto your half. Mine is free from food, they’ll find nothing worth their time,” he answered, arms folding over his chest. The momentary pride radiating outward only lasted for a moment, when the next thing he knew, something wrapped around his leg. He barely registered the feeling as Andrés’ leg before he was twisted onto his side and rolled to the floor. 

“I think they’ll find you first, mi amor. You might be enough to distract them from your mess altogether.” 

He scrambled in the dark, searching as he reached up and looked for something to grab onto. It didn’t take much to find Andrés’ bony wrist; and as he tugged, he whined, “you wouldn’t leave me to them. You’d miss me too much.” 

“That might have been true five minutes ago before you insisted on filling our bed with granola.” 

He pulled back the curtain with his free hand, exposing more of the moonlight to their room. Andrés only rolled his head into Martín’s pillow, face turned away from the pitiful display he tried to paint. However, being quick to adapt had always been a strong suit of Martín’s. His engineering studies had prepared him to think quickly on his feet, and years of unlawful activity provided hands-on experience. He pressed a lingering kiss to the inside of Andrés’ hand, the peck warming his beloved’s palm. Fingers twitched near his neck, as though involuntarily ready to lock permanently under his chin. 

A second kiss colored the curve Andrés’ thumb, and the third found the little callous, formed from years of holding a paintbrush or his favorite ink pen. Before the fourth could find a home, Andrés turned his head just enough to look down at him. “Can I come back to bed now?” 

“There’s still the matter of your mess.” 

“We have extra sheets in the wardrobe. As soon as you strip the bed, you can use one of those sets.” 

“ _Me?_ Enjoy sleeping on the floor, Martín. When the ants start nibbling your skin, keep your voice down. I know what _biting_ does to you.” 

Finally, he stood, but never released his boyfriend’s hand. A loving kiss was placed on the skin just behind Andrés’ ear. “I would consider changing them,” he hummed, “if you admit you couldn’t bear to sleep without your arms around me.” 

“I will admit nothing of the sort. I’m sure I only wanted to knock you from my bed sooner.” 

Andrés’ laugh made butterflies flap in his stomach, the lighthearted playfulness between them an unspoken apology on both their behalfs. A phantom touch found his lips, the soft pad of Andrés’ thumb tracing the thin layer of skin. Little sparks lit his nerves and his body trembled. Whatever their earlier issue was forgotten in the peace they claimed now. 


End file.
